


Prison of Her Mind

by CoolSecretTwin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Child Murder, Childhood, Kid!Lock, Mycroft Being a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-08-26 01:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoolSecretTwin/pseuds/CoolSecretTwin
Summary: It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I did not really enjoy the Final Problem, but for fanfic writers, there is an opportunity with everything Mofftiss gives us. I'd like to make sense of the backstory they gave us with Eurus.

 

"It is true we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another." - Mary Shelley, _Frankenstein_

* * *

It started with the grapes. Mummy always cut the grapes in half because Eurus was so young she might choke on them. Sherlock did not need the grapes cut in half because he was older, but Mummy said it was easier just to cut them in half for both of them. Mummy was always adamant about cutting food in small bites. Sherlock did not seem to mind, just so long as the food did not touch food of different colours. He was weird like that, but Daddy said everyone was a bit weird.

Eurus remembers the first game she ever played with her big brother. She was three years old and he was four. Sherlock loved to talk. Not about important things, like Mycroft did, but about things that were important to him, which were usually not very important to Eurus. 

She asked Mycroft to get the grapes off the high shelf in the fridge, because Mummy and Daddy were working the garden, and she and Sherlock were too small to reach them. But Mycroft did not want to cut the grapes for them. He was busy, like always. He said they were too old to choke on grapes anyway. Euros agreed. Mycroft was so wise, so clever. He knew everything. If Mycroft said that they were old enough to eat whole grapes, then they were old enough.

Mycroft set the bowl on the table and left them alone. Euros and Sherlock squished the whole grapes in their mouths while the adults continued their work outside. Grapes are yummy and sweet. It amused Eurus to squish them, like bugs under her shoe.

Sherlock had been talking, talking, talking and Eurus wished he would stop because he was being irritating. She thought of hitting him so he would be silent, and suddenly he did stop! His eyes grew wide like on the surprised face and he tapped at his throat. His mouth opened wide and his tongue hung out like a floppy red fish.

This amused Eurus. Sherlock liked to make faces at her, and they were typically not funny, but this time it was funny. He really did look like a stupid little fish. And he was quiet.

She giggled and bit into another grape.

Sherlock's hands fluttered on the table and he grabbed Eurus' arm and shook, his other hand over his throat. She shoved him away. Mummy didn't like it when she pushed because pushing was bad, but touching was even worse because Eurus did not like to be touched, and Sherlock knew this!

How delightful. Not a single sound from him. His mouth was still opening and closing. Mouths like food. She picked up another grape and held it to his mouth. He shook his head - his face was red now - and the grape fell to the floor.

Sherlock tumbled out of his chair, his arm swept across the table and the grape bowl toppled over the edge. It smashed. Euros flinched at the noise. She slid out of the chair onto the shards. She searched for the grape. Her palms pressed into more shards. The grapes lay scattered across the floor. They looked pretty against the white tile, like polka dots. Euros enjoyed patterns.

More loud noises made her skin feel like it was being yanked on from all directions. She looked up. Sherlock pounded on the door. His hands slipped on the knob and he continued to bang. His curly hair blocked his funny face. His palm slapped on the wood.

Mummy's yellow hair shined through the kitchen window. A flash of Daddy's blue eyeball.

She ate another grape off the floor. She was too small to reach the knob and Daddy did not like it when Sherlock acted like a baby. He was tall enough to reach the knob, so he should be able to open the door. Euros reached for another grape and noticed the red on her palms. She frowned. Pieces of the yellow pottery stuck in her hand. She touched it, and a jab of terrible feeling shot up her wrist. It was a tickle. She did not like it when Daddy tickled her. But it was worse than a tickle.

She had seen the red before. It came from Sherlock's mouth when he lost a tooth. She touched the red again, and dipped her finger under the flap of skin. The tickle happened again. It felt sharp. Mean. Mean like when Sherlock pushed her.

She did not like the red. The red was mean.

She opened her mouth and, after so many minutes of silence, the noise out of her mouth was positively shattering. The feeling in her skin was back. She wanted to pull it off, crawl out of her body and leave the terrible feeling. So she made her voice go louder.

The door crashed open, slamming against the wall and Mummy crouched next to Eurus and took her hand. Eurus continued to laugh and wet dripped from her eyes. Mummy made her voice very loud. Eurus covered her ears. She got the red on her face. It felt thick, like paint.

Daddy was there and Eurus saw Sherlock over Mummy's shoulder. Sherlock's face was red, so red and his lips were dark. His eyes were red around the blue.

Mummy set Eurus on the counter and held her hands with a towel. 

Mycroft and Daddy were running. At least, that's what it seemed like to Eurus. They weren't really running, but their mouths were moving very fast and loud and Daddy held Sherlock's underarms and cupped one hand around his fist and squeezed him, digging his hands into his tummy.

Eurus kicked her feet against the counter. Her feet tickled just like her hands. She laughed.

Mycroft's face was white, like snow.

"Come on," Daddy said. Daddy looked gray and Sherlock was blue, and Eurus was red. It was funny how many different colours people could turn.

Mummy gripped Eurus' hands and squished the telephone between her cheek and her shoulder. Her voice was high pitched and squeaky, like a mouse.

Eurus watched Sherlock. His eyelids flutter and his mouth still hung open. Eurus laughed. Mummy hushed her and pressed the rag against her feet. The red dripped to the tile.

Sherlock coughed and a dark, wet pebbled popped out of his mouth with a rush of air.

Daddy was crying as he laid Sherlock on the floor, petting his hair, and Sherlock sucked in air like the hoover, wheezy and raspy. His face went pink then red and water dripped from his eyes and nose, but his chest moved up and down, and making noises.

Mycroft looked like a giant, invisible puppet master snipped all his wires and the chair creaked when he collapsed. He rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands. Eurus did not know why he was so upset. They were playing a game. Games were fun. Eurus was very good at games.

They all went to surgery and the doctor with bad breath had to stick Eurus back together, like Mummy did with Sherlock's trousers when he tore the knees open. Daddy had to carry her to the kitchen and toilet because her feet were still healing. She could not colour in her books for a while because her hands hurt.

A week later, Eurus sat on the counter while Mummy cut salad. She liked the shiny knife; it made rainbows shine on the tile. Sherlock ruined it though because he was being loud again. Always loud. Eurus frowned. Frowny faces meant anger she knew.

"I want to play the game again," she said, incorrectly because she could not pronounce her /L/s.

Mummy smiled and gave her a strip of lettuce. "What game love?"

"The grape game."

Mummy set the knife down. Her eyebrows went squiggly. "Grape game?"

Eurus nodded.

"How do you play?"

Eurus smiled at Sherlock who had finally gone quiet.

"Get to see who don't go ghk!" Eurus wrapped her hands around her throat and made the funny sound that Sherlock had made. She laughed.

Mummy's eyes went wide. "Why do you think it's a game?"

Eurus explained. Mycroft thad wanted to see who could outsmart the grape. Eurus, because she was smarter, knew not to talk so much, and did not let the grape choke her. Perhaps if they played again, Sherlock would be clever enough to win. Or he would be stupid enough to choke.

Mummy's eyebrows matched the frowny face and her mouth twisted in a weird shape, maybe completely turned down like the sad face. Eurus could not tell if she was angry because her mouth kept moving.

Later, after Mummy had a long talk with Mycroft, Mycroft showed her a picture of the inside of a human body. He showed her the lungs. He told her to take a deep breath, then hold it. Mycroft told her to pinch her nose. After a while, her chest started to feel funny. Mycroft explained oxygen and lungs, and if she did not have air in her lungs, then she would die. That is what choking is. Sherlock not breathe, and if Daddy had not squeezed him, he could have died.

"Do you understand?" he said.

Eurus nodded. She was very clever.

Dying was when a person in the telly and in books went to sleep and never woke up. But that was just make believe, a dream. When she went to sleep, she dreamed, and in the morning she would wake. So would Sherlock. So it was okay. Eurus wanted to see him turn funny colours again.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Musgrave Hall contained a vast attic filled with old furniture and crates of ancestral worth. On rainy days when Sherlock and Eurus could not venture outside, because Mummy did not like mud on her floors, they enjoyed exploring the attic for hours on end.

Eurus was not tall enough to climb the creaky steps until she was four and Sherlock was five. Mummy said they were not allowed alone in the attic, because they could hurt themselves. Eurus said she would not hurt herself. That would be silly. Why would someone hurt themselves on purpose? Sherlock seemed constantly prone to hurting himself. He tripped over his shoelaces, bumped his head one too many times. Maybe that was why he had trouble thinking.

They were not allowed int the attic unless Mycroft was with them, but he sometimes let them go on their own if they didn't tell him.

Sherlock liked to search for "treasures" when he explored. Outside in the graveyard, he would dig around the gravestones because there was no one buried underneath. Only real graveyards had coffins and skeletons in them. Inside, in the attic, he would open the chests and wardrobes and dig through the junk until he found something worth keeping. Sherlock said they were treasures, but not the gold coins in the stories.

One day he found an old pirate hat and a wooden sword and books on pirates under a stack of old records. He smiled so big that Eurus thought his mouth would tear in two, leaving a big gaping hole in his face. She wanted to push him down the stairs and make him stop smiling. It was not fair that he found an insignificant party hat and toy amusing when Eurus had so many more fantastic abilities she could use to amuse him. He never paid attention to her. She always had to pay attention to him. She couldn't help it. He was so loud.

Sherlock kept the hat and sword in their room, and did not take off that sill hat for weeks. He tried to sleep in it, but Mummy put it on the high shelf where he could not reach.

Sometimes Eurus snuck into the attic even on nice days. She needed to be alone. She liked to spread a blanket out on the floor and watch the dust swirl in the sunshine. She could lose herself up there, high, high above everyone else, lost in the antique past until she herself turned into a long forgotten familial sentiment.

While Sherlock searched for buried treasure, Eurus supposed she could search as well. There were books, old and dusty, and chewed at some of the ends. There were journals written by old Holmeses, and worn leather bindings faded from years of disuse. And then there were the tomes that she could not read at all. She asked Mycroft why the words made no sense, and he told her that the story was in Latin. Another was in Italian and French Mycroft had learned French in school. He started teaching Eurus. They sat in the library for hours for her lessons. Mycroft tried to teach Sherlock about these things, but Sherlock was too busy playing make-believe and did not care about real life.

"If you never learn anything you will end up a bum on the streets!" he exclaimed.

Sherlock said that he would end up on the high seas.

Sherlock found treasures that he could collect, but Eurus founds treasures in what she learned from the history of the Holmes estate. It was an endless well of information. Mycroft and Mummy and Daddy praised her for her intellect and desire to learn. Sherlock said she was boring, but he didn't know any better. He was simple after all, entertained by simple, replaceable things.

Eurus finally understood when she discovered her second most beloved treasure on a warm Spring afternoon. An old violin case lay hidden under the dusty piano. The rusty hinges squealed from years of disuse when she opened it. She plucked the strings and the sound filled the attic with a beautiful chord that only make-believe could create. For the first time in her life, she saw an entire new world in front of her eyes, created solely from sound.

Nothing could reach her. All that mattered was the music.

Eurus cradled it in her arms and showed it to Mycroft. He twisted the pegs at the end and the strings tightened. Eurus strummed the strings and the sound flowed through her like a stream of water. Mycroft showed her how to hold the bow, but it was too worn to play properly. The horse hairs worn down to the very last strings.

Music is an escape within. It disconnects her from the heavy, prying teeth of existence. When she first discovered the power of her violin, she never put it down. But it was more than just an instrument, nothing like the silverware Mummy set at the table. It was more than a tool. her violin was an extension of her. She drowned out Sherlock's talking, and the boring adult talk at the dinner table, and the constant whirring thinking that makes Eurus want to crawl out of her skin.

She played in her world and watched the colors.

When Mummy and Daddy saw her talent, they purchased a new violin for her and found a tutor to instruct her in playing. But he was a stupid teacher. He didn't understand music, not like Eurus did. He did not see the colors that each note made, did not see the changes in the air that could be felt because of the music.

The music woke something hidden deep, something she could not explain no matter how many books she searched through. She wished she could see inside.

Other treasures were not as enlightening. Another time she found a dusty cat in an even dustier corner behind an old desk. It was stiff and asleep, posed on a block of wood. When she pet it, a thick cloud of dust puffed in her face and made her sneeze. She knew Sherlock would like it because he liked animals so she showed it to him. He scrunched up his nose and said it was fake.

Eurus knew it wasn't fake, because the previous winter, she found another cat, stiff and frozen on the other side of the barn, just like this cat.

Another game they played, that Eurus liked to play, was hide and seek, which was like treasure hunting. Eurus liked to hide behind the furniture with white sheets over them and jump out with it over her head and scare Sherlock. He always jumped and cried, but only because he read too many fake stories with white sheets in them and he thought they were scary. He believed the white sheets would hurt him.

But he was silly. White sheets were incapable of hurting him.

Fear was a mixture of the surprised and sad faces, with the wide mouth and sad eyes. When Sherlock was scared, he hid his face and curled into himself.

Sherlock was scared of three things. Grapes, white sheets, and the dark, and the results were the same for the white sheets and the dark, but the grapes she never got to see his reaction because he refused to eat them after he choked that one time.

Eurus was not scared of anything because nothing could hurt her, so she didn't know what it felt like to be frightened.

Until Victor Trevor.

-x-

When Sherlock was six and Eurus was five, the Trevor boy moved into a cottage down the road from Musgrave Hall. It was a five minute walk. Eurus read in the old family records that the Holmes' land used to extend to several acres past the current fence line. The river, the forest, the road, all of it used to belong to Great Great Grandad Holmes.

Mummy made them go to her to take a pie to them. Victor's mother was a portly woman with puffy bags beneath her eyes and frizzy hair. Eurus could hear her knees crack when she crouched down to say hello. She smiled a lot, but not a happy smile. There was something wrong with her eyes. Eurus hid behind Mummy's skirt and refused to speak to her.

Victor and Sherlock did not speak much at first. Sherlock had gotten better at talking. Eurus barely had to remind him of his lisp anymore.

Victor scrunched his smashed in nose and frowned. "What happened to your hands?" he said to Eurus.

Ms. Trevor slapped the back of Victor's head. 

"Mum! What? What'd I say?"

Victor had a "bum" accent as Mycroft put it. His tongue was too big for his mouth so he rolled the letters around willy-nilly. Victor did not have a smart older brother to teach him how to speak correctly.

Eurus looked down at her palms. The scars had healed, but sometimes when she played her violin for hours and hour and hours, they would become puffy and ache.

Sherlock stepped forward. "She got cut up," he said.

Victor stuck out his lower lip. "Did it hurt?"

Eurus cocked her head and slid her face out from behind Mummy's skirt just to look at him. Even with one eye, she could observe every part of him. His eyes were small and dull, and he had an uninteresting face. He slumped while standing, and picked his nose and stuck the snot in his pocket when he thought no one was looking.

He did not have the hands for musical instruments. His fingernails were dirty and the knees on his trousers were stained. He liked to stick his hands in dirty places, and his mother did nothing about it.

Mummy patted the back of Eurus' head. "She's a bit shy."

Eurus dug her fingers into Mummy's skirt. Mummy always felt the need to find an excuse for why Eurus refused to talk to people. 'Shy' was a softer behavior parents used to excuse rudeness, Mycroft said. And Eurus could be very rude, but only because people did not like it when she spoke the truth.

It made people uncomfortable.

Ms. Trevor smiled again. "S'okay. Vicky could learn a fing or two 'bout silence. What've I told you bout questions like that?"

"Mum!"

"Go show them around. Make friends. I'll make us a cup a tea dear."

Eurus did not want to see Victor's room, did not want to be in the house any longer. But Sherlock took her hand and like a dog on a leash, she followed.

Victor said he was 7 years old, and Sherlock and he was six and a half. Eurus pinched his arm. He was not supposed to tell fibs. He was six years old and barely two months. She said so.

Victor did not want her to come into his room. He pointed to the sign. She told him that he had misspelled 'girls'.

He slammed the door on her, nearly catching her fingers in the jam. Eurus lay down on the floor so one of her eyes could peer through the crack under the door. She could see their shoes, and a few toys. Sherlock sounded excited.

She kept Sherlock's shoes in sight.

When mummy said it was time to go, Sherlock did not want to leave because Victor had a box of painted sailors. Ms. Trevor smiled. "Nice to see Vick's made a friend."

Sherlock's eyes went wide and his mouth shifted up at the corner. Eurus felt something coil and turn to lead in her stomach. She balled her fists and stomped out of the house.

When they got home, Sherlock told Daddy that he wanted his own room because Victor had his own room. 

Eurus drew a picture of Victor Trevor nailed to a crucifix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping this is all organic. Planting the seeds of how she will eventually end up in canon.  
> Comments are always appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed that. Eurus had potential. But the way the executed her story just wasn't up to par with what I thought it would be.  
> If you liked, please comment!


End file.
